вожделенный, желанный город.
только крыши тонкая жесть,
только боль
между нами,
между нами и небом.

Coveted, desired city.
Only a thin tin roof,
Only pain
Between us,
Between us and the sky.

The City
Asya Shneiderman

Mihael went to the desk again, and stirred a small automatic gun out of a drawer. He charged it under Mail's attentive stare, and, walking back to where Mail stood, screwing the silencer in place in the meanwhile, he aimed at the houseboy.

The boy fell on his knees, crying and speaking Russian. Mail gulped. It all sounded very real now, the gun looked like a real one, and the kid, although talking in Russian, seemed to plead and panic and... he had peed on himself.
Mail jumped ten miles high when the shot resounded, even if it had been muted. He thought he would faint when blood started spilling out of the wound and the boy started screaming in pain.

Mihael calmly went back to put the gun at its place, after a few Russian orders. The bodyguard took the boy away, people came in a rush and soon everything was cleaned, just like if nothing had happened.
"You didn't kill him." It was more of a relief than an accusation.
"I still can if you really need it to be convinced, but I'd rather not let you witness something like that."

Mail sat back on the sofa, totally shocked.
"You just shot him, like this..." he shivered.
Mihael served some of the vodka that was on the permanent tray, on the coffee table. "Drink this".
Mail didn't oppose and downed the small glass in one gulp. His throat burned, but he couldn't care less right now.
"I asked and you shot him... damn..." Mail looked at the blond, "You're sick!"
"I didn't kill him." Mihael seemed totally unphased.
"You shot him! I don't care how or where, you lodged a bullet into a human being! That's just totally sick!"
"You asked me to. And I didn't kill him." Mihael didn't know how to handle that. The kid wasn't dead, he had made sure not to traumatize the redhead and still it wasn't good, "He'll be ok, don't worry."
"But I won't!"

Mail was on the verge of tears. "You're a monster !"
He couldn't stay here any longer, not with that freak that thought it was normal to shoot people in the knee just to prove something. He stood up and speeded to the door. Mihael had left his gun in the desk's drawer, it was safe, wasn't it?
"Wait!"
Mail stopped, hand on the knob. "I don't want to know you! You're totally sick! And don't come back to spy me!"
"At least let my men drive you back..."
Mail realised he didn't know where he was, and maybe, if he closed his eyes all the way,xz if it stayed that way, it was safer, they couldn't hold that against him to get rid of him?

Mail had called in sick at work for two days now. At some point he knew he'd have to leave his apartment, but truth was, he didn't even dare to go buy food so he had only eaten cereals for those two days. Without milk.

He had been unable to sleep. Everytime he dozed off, he felt himself being watched. How do you even go back to normal life after that?

The next day, Mail reasoned himself and dragged his feet to the gaming store. He stayed at the counter, unable to go in the storage room or even buy his lunch at some of the fast foods around. He just stared at the door, at every customer entering, at people on the outside. But something told him that even if Mihael was spying on him, he wouldn't know. The man had been invisible until now, so it was unlikely to change. Maybe, now that he knew who to look for, he'd see him... Did he really want to?

What he saw though, was the delivery guy from the flower store four stores away from the gaming center arrive with that single white rose and a card. He ripped the envelop open as soon as it was in his hands, furious, glancing through the window, almost expecting to see the blond. But he was nowhere in sight.

The handwriting was so beautiful that Mail stared at it long, before reading the content of the card. Against his will, he pictured Mihael and the way his writing matched the person. The white shirt, black silk sleeveless vest, and neat black pants, shiny leather shoes that he had been wearing when they met. As ostentatious as the luxury of the room was, Mihael was nothing like this, in the middle of all that rich environment. He wore Armani with modesty, which was probably a difficult thing to do, Mail thought.

But he was supposed to be furious, not dwell on how good Mihael looked. What did the brat have to say, after abducting him, shooting someone in front of him, and just act as if he had done nothing bad? One single rose as an apology, when he probably could buy the whole world's production in terms of horticulture?

Mail,
I probably won't be able to understand how you feel, because these are feelings I forgot long ago. But I want you to know that I'm sorry all the same. I never thought one instant that it would be so difficult to meet someone normal. You're right, I'm a monster. I can live with that. What is more difficult to live with is that I wanted things to be good, and made them really bad. So if there is anything I can do to ease the hurt I inflicted you, just ask me. I know that money can't buy everything, but that's all I have to make things better.
Mihael.

There was a cell phone number next to Mihael's name. As if Mail would call him. All the sick creeper could do to make things better was to forget him, to just leave him alone. Would he buy him the moon if he asked?
Mail chuckled. Yeah, money can't buy everything, and certainly not people. Or at least not him.

Customers came in the store and he just threw the card in the trashcan under the counter, along with the rose.

On his way back home, sat in the subway, Mail turned and returned the content of the card in his mind.
He was mad at Mihael for remembering himself to him. Not that he had forgotten, but he didn't need a reminder when he was trying to forget.
But everything was wrong in what the blond had written. He didn't even mind to be called a monster, and admitted he had nothing else than money to offer. Damn, he was even unable to feel anything like remorse for what he'd done.

Well, actually, he was. He didn't seem to acknowledge the fact that abducting someone, shooting someone, was really bad, and that was saying something about how fucked up the guy was, but he felt bad at least for making Mail run away. Maybe it wasn't remorse, just disappointment for not getting what he wanted. But then, he hadn't force Mail into it, he had let him go without trying to hold him back. He could have sequestrated him, but he didn't.

The redhead didn't know what to think. If he could just stop thinking, actually...
It was over! He wouldn't see Mihael anymore (he would get the message if Mail didn't contact him, right?) so it was really time to go back to normal and forget that crazy event.
It was out of the question to go to the Police, and even more impossible to talk about this to anyone. Mail wished he could, because somehow, he was beginning to feel that he was kind of abnormal too, to just let this happen and forget. Maybe he was preparing for years of therapy later, when after trying to forget, he would have created a big mental fuckup for himself?

But when you really try to forget, then things look like you've just dreamt them, and it was exactly what was in Mail's mind right now. It didn't even seem real anymore...

Meet someone normal...
So Mihael thought himself as being abnormal? Well, he kinda was...
But it was true that Mihael seemed to have no clue about dealing with ordinary people. He probably lived all clustered, surrounded by people he paid to be nice to him.

You're right, I'm a monster. I can live with that.
Why does he live with that to begin with? People usually try to change when they consider themselves as monsters!
If they get a chance to change... No. Not me. I won't. This is crazy. I'm not the good Samaritan.

Mail slammed the door of his apartment and drowned the thought in an enormous pizza, several beers and the game he had gotten a few days ago.
Not a Mafia game. Cars. Races. Crashes. That was all good.

It wasn't right to do that. Mihael knew it. Mail hadn't contacted him, and he had known he wouldn't. He didn't resist trying to bribe Mail into making a connection, although he knew it would fail.

He just couldn't give up. He didn't know why he couldn't get over it. It was digging a hole in him that seemed to swallow him from the inside like a black hole in his universe. Maybe being here today, in the exact spot where he had spied on Mail days ago, would just make him realise it was stupid to cling on a person that didn't want to hear about him, obviously. At least, he would see his beautiful face again...

Mail didn't notice, just like he hadn't before. It was convenient.

Well, that is until he left the store after his shift ended. Mihael drowned himself in the shadow of the pillar behind him, without noticing the young woman walking his way. She was looking around, lost, and Mihael was the closest to her, so, politely, she spoke to him after catching his attention:
"Excusez-moi, je cherche la rue du Rocher, est-ce que vous connaissez ?"
"A votre droite, puis il faut prendre la rue qui monte encore à droite."

The voice was kept as low as possible, speaking fast, trying to get rid of the woman, but it was still loud enough for Mail to spot the heavy Russian accent as he came closer, needing to go this way to exit the railway mall.
Mihael cursed under his breath and planted the woman here before she was able to thank him, trying to escape Mail's eyes, but the redhead was staring at him, looking really angry.
The blond walked the opposite way. Mail was totally furious. How dare he spy on him again? Running after Mihael, he grabbed his arm when he reached his level.
"What are you doing here?" he spat, venom in his tone.
"I'm going, don't worry."
"Oh no, you're not going anywhere! Not until you tell me WHY you're here when I made it clear I didn't want to have anything to do with you again!"

Mail's eyes were sending daggers and Mihael looked like he was caving in, which stopped the redhead mid-sentence.
"Why can't you just..."
He looked at Mihael, and it made him feel like he was talking to a child, scolding him after he'd been really bad.
"Damn, are you gonna come here everyday hopelessly? What do you expect? Or will you abduct me again someday? Do you understand it when people say no? Do you at least understand what it feels like to know you're after me like this? It scares me, ok?"
Mihael was avoiding his angry look, eyes locked with his shoes tip.

Mail lit a cigarette. He was really craving throwing his fist in Mihael's face right now. But even if they were nowhere in sight, he didn't want to risk having two men in black on him the instant his fist connected to their boss' face.
Man, if Mihael had just come to him one day and said hello, or invited him for a drink, he may have said yes, but the guy had to do this crazy stuff he did!
Not that learning that he was dating a mafioso, if they had ever dated, would have been a nice thing to hear...

"Why couldn't you just pick me up like normal people do? I mean, talk to me in the street, try to seduce me at my counter, I don't know, things that people usually do when they crush on someone! Damn, I can't even begin to imagine what made you think it was ok to act like you did!"
"Yeah, like you would have talked to me... I would have scared you away..." Mihael was still staring at his feet, his back to the pillar, looking very, very uncomfortable.
"Well, if you had come to me with your two men, saying you were at the head of the Mafia, probably. But just "Hello, I'm Mihael, and I'd like to know you" would have worked, you know. But deal with it, now it's too late!"

On those words, Mail pushed Mihael's hood off his head in anger.
"Stop hiding there and move on damnit! No matter how hard you try to hide, I'll know you're there so don't bother."
Mihael's eyes widened to find himself exposed to everyone's eyes. He cringed, but it was useless. The people around stared, hard.
Mail was taken aback by the alarmed look in the blond's eyes, and looked around him.
There was shock in the passers-by's eyes. And disgust. He felt an anger of a totally different kind all of a sudden. Of course he had been shocked when he had seen Mihael's scar for the first time, but how could you react in front of something like that, that was taking a good quarter of his face, running from his forehead just under the hairline, crossing the bridge of his nose to reach the cheek and cut it in half, ending somewhere in his neck? But disgust? It was a heartless way to look at someone that had obviously suffered...

"Qu'est-ce que vous regardez?" he spat at them.
Passers-by scattered hastily and Mihael pulled his hood back in place.
"See how you were right to call me a monster?" Mihael laughed bitterly before turning around to leave.

Translation from french:
"Excusez-moi, je cherche la rue du Rocher, est-ce que vous connaissez ?" "Excuse me, I'm looking for the 'du Rocher' street, do you know it?"
"A votre droite, puis il faut prendre la rue qui monte encore à droite." "To your right, then take the street that's heading up to the right again."
"Qu'est-ce que vous regardez?" "What are you staring at?"